


Party Tattoos

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009 Phan, 2009 fic, Extended Metaphors, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Metaphors, Songfic, inspired by a dodie song, wow i'm john green now or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A 2009 fic inspired by Dodie's song Party Tattoos for Phil's birthday.The butterflies were back, but this time they were kinder and filled Dan with warm fuzzies. They tickled Dan’s tummy in the most delicious way, making him want to smile and giggle and give squishy hugs.Dan liked these butterflies.





	Party Tattoos

_Take a look at the clock_  
_Only so long to go_  
_Scrubbing smooth young skin_  
_Saying "I don't know"_

The ticking of the clock seemed to beat like a heart in Dan’s ears that day.

He had a train ticket to Manchester burning a hole in his back pocket and the countdown until it would leave was running on high speed.

He stood in the shower, letting hot water rush over his body, steam seep into his pores, and dragged sweet-smelling suds over his skin until it was rubbed raw. He stood under the warmth for far longer than necessary, hugging his arms around the quickly-worsening butterflies in his gut and running nervous fingers through his now-curly soaked hair.

When he had first bought the ticket he had been so excited- Phil too- but now he was nothing but a dense ball of heavy anxiety and sparking nerves.

He had no clue what he was doing. What was he thinking all those months ago, a lonely teenager pining after a sweet boy and beautifully creative mind he had stumbled across on the internet?

He was so afraid that when he arrived, when Phil saw him for the first time without the filter of a screen and without the blue light glow on his face, he would decide that Dan wasn’t enough. He was terrified that Phil would cast him aside like yesterday’s trash and find someone new, better, happier.

This wasn’t the movies, and Dan wasn’t expecting a happy ending.

_Grab a bag, grab a bottle but leave the what if;_  
_You'll see it in the morning after your kicks_

The black duffel bag stared at Dan, as if it was mocking him.

Dan stared back.

The bag was the final obstacle between him and Phil.

Dan just had to pick up the damn bag, and leave the house. That was it.

But he couldn’t, not with his stomach tied in knots, trying to suffocate him by wrapping around his lungs and making his breath come in quick pants that could not be healthy.

Closing his eyes, Dan focused on his fear. He imagined that the butterflies in his belly were instead held in his hand. He imagined that he had a bag, just like the one that he had been staring at, and he shoved the butterflies and nerves into the bag.

Then he imagined throwing the bag as far away from him as he could, all the _maybes_ and _what ifs _.__

____

He wasn’t leaving his fears behind; he knew they would come back, they always did.

____

He was simply pretending that they weren’t there, pretending that he and Phil had seen eachother a thousand times before, and not just over Skype with a blue light cast on their faces from the screens.

____

__Dan took a deep breath, grabbed the damn bag, and at last walked out the door._ _

____

_All you will need for a rocking good time_  
_Is a bunch of people who don't give a damn_

Phil had never been a party person, and not even his time at University changed that. He was just an awkward person in social situations that involved a lot of people, and would much rather be with just one person with whom he was close and knew better than anyone.

Phil felt alone in a room full of people, and even though there were warm bodies spinning around him to the beat of the music, he knew that none of them gave a damn about him.

None of them knew him.

None of them cared.

They just wanted to drink.

But he pretended, put a garish smile on his face that no one but people who don’t give a damn could call genuine, and pretended to be happy.

_There's a yes, in your head, gotta find where it's at_  
_You'll lose it in the morning but ignore that_

Phil stood in the middle of the train station, surrounded by a colored blur of fast-moving jacket-clad and briefcase-carrying people, intense blue eyes anxiously scanning the crowd.

He searched frantically, until his gaze was caught on a head of soft-looking brown hair.

Phil didn’t know where the boldness came from, he’d never had any before, but as soon as his eyes met Dan’s he was striding forward with a purpose and throwing his arms around the slightly shorter boy as if he was a lover who had just returned from war.

Phil wasn’t a reckless person. Spontaneous, sure, but never reckless.

He had planned on greeting Dan happily, of course, but he hadn’t prepared himself for his body’s subconscious movement towards Dan.

He hadn’t prepared for his unwillingness to let go once he held him in his arms.

He knew that his newfound bravery wouldn’t last, but when he was met with Dan’s dimpled smile and deep brown eyes that shone like stars, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

_My mummy said to always wear a coat_  
_But it's warm and it's heavy and we're trying to float_  
_Don't forget, she'll be right when it's 3 a.m_  
_So shiver, but shiver with a friend_

If someone who lived on a random street in a random apartment building (For we all must know by now that this was all spontaneous. Our entire existence was created by chance) that for some reason decided to open their window to the cool Manchester air on a specific date in October at nearly three in the morning, they would have seen a shivering raven haired boy, with his arms around another shivering, slightly shorter brown-haired male.

If that random someone had seen the two standing under the golden beam of a streetlight in the fluid hours that are not quite night but not quite morning either, foreheads pressed together, unheard secrets passing over chapped lips in puffs of icy breath, the unnamed observer would have smiled, and then carefully closed their window and not looked again, because the moment was too precious for one to disturb, and to intimate for one to watch without feeling like an intruder.

_We're not bruised_  
_They're just party tattoos_  
_And that colourful mess_  
_Is just colourful regret_

Dan was not perfect.

Neither was Phil.

Both of them had suffered more than anyone so young should in a world that was intended to be kind.

Dan laid in Phil’s bed, running his hand over the marks on his neck. The colorful mess of memories that Phil had left on him stood out like a rainbow in a hurricane, their colors splashed over Dan’s usual monochrome appearance.

The bruises tattooed on his skin were a sign that this was real for Phil, and that he felt what Dan felt too.

They were a reminder of the happiest moments of his life thus far.

They were proof that all of this was real.

The butterflies were back, but this time they were kinder and filled Dan with warm fuzzies. They tickled Dan’s tummy in the most delicious way, making him want to smile and giggle and give squishy hugs.

Dan liked these butterflies. 

_Black lipstick will never be a sin_  
_We'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin_  
_We'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin_  
_Regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin_

There were, of course, times when Dan felt that he wasn’t good enough.

(There always are these times, for not even the greatest of us are infallible to self-doubt.)

His black bruises that reminded him of sadness sometimes seemed to overshadow the newer, happier ones that Phil left.

These bruises gave Dan odd feelings in his gut.

Not butterflies.

Moths, maybe. These left sick and squirmy doubt in Dan’s stomach, made him want to retreat far away and never talk to anyone ever again. The fluttery moths made Dan push away everyone and everything until it was just Dan. Just Dan in the metaphorical dark woods, his gut filled with moths.

But for some reason Phil was still there. Phil was there to turn on bright lights that made the moths fly away like- well, like moths to a flame. Phil was there to take Dan’s hand and lead him home. Phil was there and even all those years later it was still like the first day they had laid eyes on each other.

Sure, some things were different now.

The naivety of the beginning was gone, but the passion, the love remained.

The butterflies- the good butterflies- remained, and sometimes Dan would still smile and giggle and give squishy hugs just like before.

He was happy.

Phil was happy.

Things may change in the future, but this was how they were now.

And that was what mattered.


End file.
